


Scáthach

by LadyGloucester



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demon Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGloucester/pseuds/LadyGloucester
Summary: In a world where reality is just a cover of a dark, vilified world where all kinds of creatures roam freely, a single decision can change the life of those involved. When Claire makes up her mind and disobey direct orders to save a man from jumping to his death, she'll have to confront consequences she never imagined she would.





	Scáthach

_There was no turning back. It won’t ever be, I realized as the mucilaginous edges crawled to merge together. I was, forever and irrevocably, doomed._

 

* * *

I won’t go all David Copperfield on you. I consider you smart enough to recognize that if I’m here, talking to you, I might as well have been born in order to do so. What a presumptuous prick, that David. Anyway. Even though I’ve gone through basically the same stages of life as any other human being, I can’t say that I consider myself so. Not fully, at least. I’m what we call a Scáthach. Yeah, pretty much as the celtic deity, we’re _that very_ _original_. Calling myself a warrior woman in the middle of the XXI century will sound… well, probably as presumptuous as our friend David. But it’s the truth. I am a warrior indeed, one that fights shit you wouldn’t even imagine before I told you so.

I won’t bother you with the same boring pest I had to deal with when they first approached me. You’ll thank me for that later. But the thing is, a Scáthach is pretty much what whoever that has ever played a video game would call a demon hunter. Well, demon falls actually a bit short. There are all kinds of disgusting beings, if you may call them so, in the Dubnos, but for anyone that’s not familiar with the hierarchies and classifications of the The Deep, we can stick with that. Demon.

I can hear you rolling your eyes so hard at me. I understand it. I used to think this was all bullshit. But well, I’ve had enough of my share of experiences—and whisky— to quiet my skepticism. But I’ll help you swallow this rather thick pill. Have you ever realized your friend, your coworker, even your neighbor is suddenly behaving completely out of character? Have you heard of those people that change their lives in the blink of an eye, turning it upside down and destroying it in the process? Have you even felt it? That unforeseen sting of desperation in the bottom of your heart when everything seems to be going perfectly well. That fit of lust that drives you into the arms of another person while your partner is happily waiting for you at home. That outburst of anger that pushes your feet on the gas pedal, terrorizing every other driver in the highway.

I thought so.

Science tries to give it an explanation. A man suddenly murders his entire family while his friends can’t understand how the loveliest of fathers would stab his infant children to death. Psychiatrists say he had an underlying disorder. One nobody ever noticed. Not a single action in his behavior ever betrayed it. And yet, we all swallow it down, nod and thank God and pray that science will save us all. Put a tag on our diseases and magically cure them.

If only it was possible. I wouldn’t be here.

That is the doing of a demon, clever enough to make us believe that our brains would do that to ourselves, defying millions of years of evolution and self-preserving instincts. They find a way to sneak up on us and infect us. Of course there are people depressed. Angry people. People obsessed with others. Demons are not the cause of every single evil in the world, illogical as it may sound. But those unexpected explosions that ultimately breaks the person that feels them, of those they _are_ responsible. Don’t fool yourself.

So I take care of them. That’s what I do for a living. Well, not out in the open, that’s for sure. In “real life” I volunteer at The Royal London Hospital. It’s most convenient to have access to quick meds and professionals when you work in a field like mine. But not for me, I… well, my body behaves slightly differently. Which is an advantage, you’ll see. Whenever I’m free and I have the time, I drop by the hospital and take a quick look to see if they need a hand. They once tried to put me on a schedule. It took them a couple of days to realize it wasn’t going to work, so since I’m nice and useful, they usually let me do my thing without making much of a fuss.

So far, I’ve told you about (a bit of) my job, my _other_ job and what I am. But I haven’t told you my name yet.

I’m Claire. And I’m alone.

Not that I care. I mean, it would be nice to have someone to have a Sunday lunch with, but it won’t keep me awake at night. Not _most_ of the nights, at least. I’ve never been one to have many friends. Mainly because my line of work is an unpredictable one. People use to get tired of you when you cancel dates and plans more often than you make it.

Ok, wait a second… I’m painting a fairly sociopathic image of myself. I may not win Miss Congeniality this year, but I’m not a bad person. Well, I wouldn’t say that I qualify as a person either, but you get what I mean. I do this to help others that can’t help themselves. So I think that should give me a few points.

Are we clear then? I slay demons, people live to see another day and I go home all by myself. Again, _most_ of the nights.

 

The day it all changed I was about to leave the hospital after a short shift helping around, wheeling some elderly patients around and trying to crack them up with my stupid jokes. I loved to hear them laugh with their shot voices, always reprimanding me for being too crude. I know it’s a weird hobby, getting a chuckle out of those old crocks, but I guess it’s one of the quirks of being an orphan, unable to joke around with your own folks. _Yay me_. When my cellphone beeped, I snuck it out of my black jeans and checked it.

 _Frank_. _Shit._

“Tell me."

“Hi Claire, how’s your—”

“Cut the crap. What is it?“ I demanded as I walked into a nearby alley. The sun was already setting and I knew I’d be in need of a dark, secluded place to open the Membrane sooner rather than later. Oh, wait. The Membrane, haven’t told you about that yet, have I? Well, just let me get through with this asshole.

“Ok,” the voice came through the speaker colder and snarky. “There’s a situation. You need to cross and take care of a _deamhan_ that has found an weak spot in the Membrane. There’s a human involve, but don’t care about it. We’re already counting him as a hero.”

 _A hero_. Yeah, they were hypocritical enough to give that name to the humans that died as a result of an unexpected encounter with a _deamhan_. Sometimes we were late and there was nothing we could do. Other times, fewer, I got orders to leave them be. Very ethical.

“Ok, show me.”

I hung up and closed my eyes. The image began to solidify in the back of my mind, slowly adding detail, color, texture, even smell. Well, _stink_. Even a foul taste flooded my mouth. I got it. Let me tell you about the Membrane, quick and dirty. In order to cross to the Dubnos, The Deep, if you prefer, you don’t have to pay the boatman to sail through the Styx lagoon. Though it would be _pretty cool_. No, between our two worlds there is a separation, a physical barrier that only a few of us can cross. The Membrane, that’s it. It works like an osmosis process. There’s part of you that stays back in the world of the living, and another that’s able to pass through. The Dubnos is restricted to the demons. So… yeah, you guessed right. I’m part demon myself. That’s why I can cross the Membrane back and forth, and live in both sides of it. Hope I didn’t freak you out. I don’t have scales or a pointy tale or bug eyes. Well, those I only have them in the Dubnos. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to see shit there. But they usually fade after a while once I’ve come back. Don’t look at me that way, I’m sure you’ve ended a few nights out looking _far_ worse.

With the _deamhan_ crystal clear in my mind, I opened the Membrane. I usually can open it anywhere. I just need it to be a dark place, without sunlight directly on it, and without prying eyes around, if only not to scare them to death. So I did it once again. I extended my hand with my fingers firmly aligned, acting like a blade able to cut the viscid film. It slowly pried open, parting like a primeval womb not giving pass to life, but rather absorbing it into its depths. I was already accustomed to the transition, but it always felt like losing a part of you that you were never positive you’d be able to gain back.

The first thing that hits you when you enter the Dubnos is the smell. There’s nothing that can compare to it. Like a mixture of ammonia and really, really rotten eggs. Only stinkier. I could only perceive it in the back of my nose. Once I cross the Membrane, most of my human senses are left behind and… well, demons aren’t particularly squeamish about stenches. Their sense of smell works differently, like a hound’s, but only sensitive to selective traces. I had the odor of that _deamhan_ Frank had sent me still vivid in my nostrils. I sniffed around, trying to pick a scent. The path became distinct in a few seconds, my eyes able to discern it as if it was marked with bread crumbs. An eerie synesthesia, but definitely a useful one.

Even though it works as some sort of shadow of the reality, a muffled copy of the real world, time and space work a little differently in The Deep. Demons don’t have a natural sense of any of them, since they’re maleable, bendable. The same rules we have don’t apply there. So reaching the coast took me less than getting to the tube from the hospital. I’m _a bit_ faster here as well, so by the time I could feel the power of the waves crashing against the jagged cliffs, I slowed down and crouched. There it was.

A thread, thinner than the thousandth part of a hair, came out of an amorphous blob of flesh, almost transparent, like muddy water. I frowned. If I recalled correctly, the human was already far gone. But the the opposite end of that thread was attached to a man, still in the real world. I could distinguish his form, a nebulous, barely distinctive shape on top of precipice. The _deamhan_ was having a rough time pulling form its end. Usually once they were able to tie it to a person, the effect was instant. Most of the times there wasn’t even a struggle. But this wasn’t one of those. He was fighting. Even with his bare foot sticking out of the rock into the void of an indomitable sea, he was still holding on for dear life.

I could wait. You see, I could let the _deamhan_ do its thing and let that poor bastard fall to his death. But remember when I told you that sometimes I get orders to leave them to their own devices? Well. I’m a shitty minion.

The fight was over before it began. By the time the demon became aware of my presence, I had already inserted my left arm all the way into its body, while I was tangling the thread around my right in order to withdraw it. The beast started to convulse, I clenched my teeth and looked away. It was stronger than I had foreseen. Painfully slowly, it initiated the process of swallowing my arm. I could feel its juices pouring on my skin, burning it. I pulled back but it was too far stuck. The thread broke. It was a shit show. I was there, a human about to kill himself and I, to be eaten and digested.

I closed my eyes. If I wanted it to work, I had to work quickly. With my right arm free, at least I was able to use it. The thread was surrounding it, hurting like acid on an open wound. I placed my palm against the slimy surface of the _deamhan_ while I grabbed its insides with my other hand, and pulled. I pulled so hard I felt the muscles of my back strain and break. The energy started to condensate on the tips of my fingers. I hadn’t had to use it in quite sometime, so it took me longer than I expected. But by the time the bastard realized what was happening, it was a smoking spot on the floor.

I fell backwards, out of breath. Or I’d be if only I breathed there. Took me a second to remember the human. I looked at where he had been a second before, but he wasn’t there. He was already falling.

_Fuck._

There was no time to think. I could see his shape plunging through the air, near the hair-raisingly sharp rocks of the cliff. Time slowed down to a tortuously lethargic cadence, enough for me to leap forward as fast as I could —which is, to be honest, faster than your eye could see—, as I opened the Membrane and pushed myself through. It slowed me down, but I had got enough momentum, more than enough to counter gravity. With the agonic rush I completely miscalculated the strength I was going to impact on his body with. I felt his shoulder pop out of the socket and his mouth crash against my (rather thick) head as I catapulted us over the cliff. I managed to protect him from further damage as we landed by, well, basically using my own body as an airbed. Not the best sensation, it crossed my mind, as I became aware of the size of the man. He lay on top of me, a dead weight that almost kept me from breathing properly, a few seconds before I crawled from underneath and turned him over on his back. My arms were still burned. In the Dubnos I was able to heal rather quickly, but once I crossed the Membrane back, my human body would became a burden. I still healed at an abnormal pace, but it was much more painful.

I could feel the ligaments of my jaw tightening with the pain, but I had no more time to waste. I straddled his waist, tore his shirt open and he, opportunistic as hell, decided it was the best time to come back from the dead. Or the unconscious. Whatever. So picture this: luckily, last thing he’ll probably remember is jumping off a cliff. Now he regains consciousness and a woman with black scleras and burnt arms is ripping his clothes off. If I’m the slightest bit less lucky, he’ll remember me, emerging from thin air, looking like I’m flying —and damn, I wish I could but that’s actually something I’m completely unable to do— and tackling him into safety. And ripping his clothes off, no, there’s no way to elude that.

“A Dhia…”

He tried to squirm out of my grasp with the arm he was still able to move, but I pushed him hard against the soft grass.

“Quiet,” I hissed while I gave him my most terrifying look. Which then was, well, actually the only look I had. He froze, trying to puzzle his memories, to instill some kind of reasoning into them, fighting the unlikeliness of it all. I arched an eyebrow, staring at him, waiting till he finally made up his mind provisionally. He had felt my strength. He knew, somewhere deep inside, he was at my mercy. Then, his eyes left mine for a second only to discover the wounded skin of my arms.

“Mary, Michael and Bride, your arms are burnt!”

“I. Said. Quiet.”

The fight behind his eyes began again for a few seconds, but he finally stopped wriggling and I was able to inspect his chest. Remember what I told you about the demons? About how they corrupt human beings? Well. that was precisely what that this human had been subjected to. Good thing I still had my bug eyes. I wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but it made it easier for me to find the corruption inside a body. I already suspected where it was. Despair was usually inserted near the heart. I placed my hand on his left pectoral and focused. This one was deep. I began pulling and his face became shadowed by the pain. It’s not the most pleasant process, but I’ve always found humans to be quite receptive to it. As if they knew, somehow, that the pain they feeling is a curative one. Gradually, a conical shape, with a dirty forest green shade, emerged from the flesh.

I let myself sat on the soft grass and sighed, looking at it. My human side felt the call of it, the words in the back of my mind, the pain that would conquer me if I let it. The waving surface was almost mesmerizing. I fell on my back and indulged in the cool feeling of the pasture and the first drops of rain. I heard him move, sitting up and closing his shirt. I could smell the blood from his broken lip. That could be a problem and staying there would only make it worse.

“Who are you?” He whispered, probably not sure if he had dreamt the whole thing, lost his mind or was having the worst trip in history.

I stood up as the rain began to pour down, appreciative of the coolness it impressed on my burns.

“You’ll be just fine. Don’t ever come back here. If you go south you’ll find a small train station if you want to go to the City. There won’t be enough light to go anywhere else.”

I rubbed my hands against my jeans and shrugged, not knowing what else to say. He wasn’t moving and kept staring at me like he was seeing a ghost. Which wasn’t too far from the truth, so who could blame him.

“Well, I—”

“Wait.” He grabbed my wrist and raised my arm, inspecting my clearly healing wounds.

“Do you really want to freak yourself out any more?”

He looked me with those slanted, incredibly blue eyes, as I realized for the first time, and let go of my wrist.

“What’s that… thing you pulled from my body?”

It was my time to freak out.

“You _can_ see this?” I showed him the green cone and raised my eyebrows in absolute astonishment. He nodded, frowning.

“Why?”

“You aren’t supposed to be able to see a Fang. Nobody can.”

“Well, _not_ nobody,” he pointed with indisputable common sense.

I was gaping like a fish out of water. I’ve seen plenty of terrifying, upsetting, disgusting, crippling stuff. Enough to make me almost immune to surprise. But this caught me perfectly out of balance. My eyes travelled from the Fang to his eyes, and I could tell he was waiting for an explanation. Probably more than one. Then, my gaze felt unavoidably attracted to the cut on his lip. My heart was already racing, and I didn’t know how much I could restrain myself.

“This— Remember what you felt when you jumped off?” A semblance of shame covered his features and nodded. “This is it. It wasn’t you. _This_ made you jump.“

“But…”

“I have to go.“

“Wait!”

“Just wipe that fucking blood of your face!” I snapped, and it was his time to be caught off guard. I started pacing around, nervously. “I can’t stay. I can’t help you anymore. Go on, live your life and all that shit.“

And I vanished.


End file.
